


The Pursuit Of Creativity Is Long And Frankly, Pretty Fucking Messy

by unavoidablekoishi



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: F/M, Periods, SLOW FUCKING BURN DUDES, but can you take the consequences, chloe doesnt physically become queen bee, chloe is a good artist, not really - Freeform, plot half regarding periods but really, queen bee is chloes design, sort of spoilers, sort-of-enemies to sort-of-friends to probable lovers, yeah sure i take criticism
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-05
Updated: 2018-10-24
Packaged: 2019-07-25 17:47:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,721
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16202531
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unavoidablekoishi/pseuds/unavoidablekoishi
Summary: She’d make a good protagonist or a heroine of some kind. Now that, was what Chloé wanted to be. Chloé wanted to be Ladybug, but Chloé couldn’t be Ladybug…...which meant Chloé had to be someone else.Between ambitious artistic endeavours and poorly-timed periods, Chloé finds herself face-to-face with Nathaniel more times than she ever has over their time at school and Nathaniel finds himself drawn to her more than he ever has and ever wanted to be.





	1. Throw A Punch- You Can't Hurt Me More Than My Body Is Already

Today was officially not a good day to be Chloé Bourgeois.

 

Chloé was hunched over, sat on her heels as she peered out through the crack of the door that led out into the hallway. The classroom was thankfully empty, everyone having left to collect their things from their lockers before heading home for the day, though it was still risky to leave whilst students were walking the halls.

 

She grunted, shifting uncomfortably as she gently pushed the door so it appeared to be shut. This was the worst- a total day ruiner, but she had to thank her lucky stars that it was the end of the day. Had this occurred in the morning then she would have to consider herself completely and totally screwed.

 

She winced, rubbing her legs together awkwardly, feeling her ankles ache at the constant pressure put on them. She should’ve seen this coming a mile away and all of a sudden the pieces fit into place; the sudden stomach aches from yesterday, the awful feeling like someone was pulling her hips apart and the want of nothing more than to trudge home and crawl into bed. Ah, yes, it was all too familiar.

 

Looking down, the awkwardly placed stain of blood on the crotch of her jeans, spreading down to her thigh, told her everything.

 

She frowned, blowing a stray piece of hair out of her face, pushing her jaw out in an expression of annoyance. This was the worst, the absolute worst.

 

And white jeans, no less. She was used to being careful enough to keep her pristine white jeans immaculate every day, it was an essential part of her outfit and she wasn’t going to let any old day to day mishap stain them.

 

Today, however, was a bit of a cockup on her part. She made a silent note to throw these jeans in the wash before anybody else could see them. She may have been above doing her own laundry, but she already knew that the staff at home had a metaphorical pile of embarrassing memories of her as a child and she wasn’t about to add to that pile with something like this.

 

She gave another groan, feeling sorry for herself as she rested her head against the door. Why couldn’t people hurry up and leave already so she could make the mad dash out to the car, being seen by as few people as was humanly possible? Honestly, people could be so selfish sometimes…

 

She was about to pull the door open a crack to see if the hallways were clear, until the door suddenly swung forward, smacking her in the nose and knocking her backwards. She swore, rubbing her nose harshly as she glared up at whoever had dared to barge in here.

 

The familiar red hair wasn’t a welcome sight, it never had been, and the look Nathaniel shot her mirrored her own. He looked borderline disgusted, almost looking glad that he’d bashed  Chloé’s face in with the door but the colour in his face seemed to drain as his grip tightened on his sketchbook.

 

“Watch what you’re doing, stupid!” She spat, feeling the bridge of her nose sting irritably as she sat, half-sprawled out on the vinyl floor, wondering why Nathaniel looked so concerned. Was she bleeding or something? She checked her hand to see if there was any blood coming from her nose. Nothing there…

 

Nathaniel backed away to the door, hesitantly pointing a finger at her, now looking rather flustered. “Y...you’ve got something...um…I-I think you’re bleeding!” He swallowed, fiddling indecisively with a lock of his flame red hair as Chloé raised a thinly plucked, blonde eyebrow.

 

“No I’m not!” She held up her hand as if to prove so, “Jeez, you didn’t knock me that hard.” She muttered, adding a, “You’re far too wimpy.” under her breath for good measure, but it was only until she realised that  _ technically _ she was bleeding and  _ technically _ Nathaniel was correct and  _ technically _ she was fucked--

 

She slammed her legs shut, keeping her eyes trained on the cupboard in the far corner of the room, not daring to look up at the red-headed boy. She swallowed thickly, shifting so she was sat on her knees.

 

“Leave.” She ordered, but far quieter and far more meekly than she had intended. Nathaniel seemed to stumble by the door, wondering if he should be doing something or if there was some kind of social cue he wasn’t picking up on here, but it was only until Chloé yelled, “Leave!” did he get the hint. He bolted out of the door, slamming it shut quickly, forgetting about whatever it was that he’d gone to the classroom to fetch.

 

Chloé scooted backwards so she was sat up against the desks, her knees pressed up against her chest. It was almost 5 o’clock now but her driver would have to wait. That stupid ginger idiot, barging in here so thoughtlessly like that- what an asshole! 

 

She cursed him under her breath, shifting uncomfortably as she rubbed her upper arms. The faculty had most likely turned off the heating already, no wonder it was getting chilly.

 

That didn’t matter, however. She knew she had some sanitary products stuffed in her bag somewhere, and if she didn’t then she was ready to consider this day the worst day in her life- even worse than the time Alix had thrown a juicebox at her from across the courtyard and it had hit her straight on the head.

 

Christ, they were all so insufferable. She counted herself lucky she didn’t have to spend too much time now with them- it was only a year or so left until she could rid herself of those cretins for good.

 

That thought almost did well to cheer her up from her immediate problem, but her mood quickly turned sour as a small, shy knock sounded from the door. The shifting silhouette standing behind the frosted glass was easy to make out, even though the classroom was nearly dark. When did the lights go out…?

 

“Go away!” She shouted. The silhouette moved hesitantly, but remained in front of the door. Yikes, this guy was persistent. What the hell did he want anyway?

 

“I...need something from my desk. Can you grab it for me?” Nathaniel’s voice was barely a whisper, as if he was keeping a secret- Chloé rolled her eyes and clucked her tongue. There was no way she was doing errands for him, “Get it yourself!”

 

Nathaniel fiddled with the door handle before pushing the door open, significantly slower and more cautiously than he had done the first time around. He squinted through the darkness, making out where Chloé was sat, before hastily rushing to his desk and crouching behind the wood.

 

Chloé subconsciously crossed her legs tighter now, feeling her flats slip irritatingly across the smooth vinyl floor as she waited impatiently for Nathaniel to hurry up. God, the guy could be so slow sometimes. Often late to class, never did his work, skived off gym class and always the last to leave. If there was an Olympic event for laziness, he’d be a gold medal winner three times over.

 

He suddenly stood upright, wobbling slightly from the rush of standing up too fast, as he slung his bag back over his shoulder and made his way to the door. Just as he was about to leave, however, he stopped, glancing over unsurely at Chloé’s huddled form, pointedly looking away from him and out of the window that showed nothing but the dark Parisian sky.

 

“Do...do you need some kind of help?” He asked, not being as helpful as he could be, but Chloé’s temper got the better of her. “Like hell I need help- go away!” She barked, seeming to press herself further against the wood of the desks. Nathaniel felt his own temper spike at the nasty attitude, but Chloé’s expression, or what he could make of it in the dark, seemed more upset than angry.

 

He wasn’t exactly the most knowledgeable of the ‘world of the girls’ and being an only child meant he had no sisters to speak of, but he could tell she wasn’t in a desirable situation.

 

He sighed. “Stay here for a second.” He said abruptly, before shutting the door and dashing off down the hall, leaving Chloé sat alone and mildly confused. What was he playing at? Where did he get off telling her what to do?

 

Still...she could still hear some mindless chatter coming from the other students outside of the classroom. Maybe in about ten minutes or so, it would be safe to come out.

 

The moment the thought left her mind, a strong ache pulsed through her abdomen, as if someone had tied her organs up into a knot and pulled. 

 

Now, the experience of periods with girls was sometimes shared and sometimes not. Each girl was different and therefore, had their different experiences, but Chloé’s experiences with period pains were amazingly atrocious and totally unbearable. She didn’t know what kind of god she’d pissed off to have this fate laid upon her, but the moment she’d felt the telltale twinge of a bad pain on the way to make her life a living nightmare, she was ready to step out into traffic.

 

And to make matters worse, she’d left her prescription painkillers in her bag and prescription painkillers were always a sign that a girl was truly suffering with the worst of the worst. A burst appendix or a particularly large kidney stone was more bearable than the period of total self-destruction her body liked to put her through- though she says that with exaggeration and not as a challenge.

 

She was midway through lamenting the lack of painkillers to help ease the now growing, gnawing pain in her abdomen when the door opened and for a second, Chloé had never been so happy to see Nathaniel in her life.

 

He stood in the doorway, the light from the hallway casting a shadow across the darkened classroom, as he held her bag in one hand. 

 

“I think your driver is getting impatient.” He didn’t sound entirely pleased, finding the notion of having a personal driver to be a bit snobbish, especially since he knew how badly Chloé was prone to treating her personal attendants.

 

Chloé sniffed, surprised by his action to go and fetch her bag for her. She watched him carefully, getting to her knees and cautiously snatching the bag from his hand. “How did you get into my locker?” She demanded, standing up and almost immediately regretted it as she tried not to double over.

 

Nathaniel eyed her oddly, before shrugging, “Everyone knows you can pick the locks with a paperclip. It’s not hard.” He remarked, wary of the way Chloé was rubbing her stomach and doing a bad job of making it look like that definitely wasn’t what she was doing.

 

Chloé scowled, “What, you do that often? You’re a creep.”

 

_ ‘And you’re a bitch.’ _ Nathaniel thought, eyes narrowing. “I don’t make a habit of it, but I don’t think you’re one to talk about bad habits.” He allowed himself this tiny, scathing remark, after all, he had gone to the trouble of fetching her bag for her and she hadn’t even said ‘thank you’.

 

“Oh, get bent, blockhead. Go creep around Marinette’s locker.” She waved her hand dismissively, ready to storm past him until an annoyingly unfortunate thing happened that left her half-crossing her legs.

 

Nathaniel was used to this by now, finding it easy to deflect Chloé’s insults. He was taken a little off-guard by earlier, unsure of what to do when Chloé was clearly hiding in the classroom out of embarrassment, but he’d reverted back to being thoroughly unimpressed by her attitude.

 

“Want me to take the bag back? I can do that.” He said, eyes steely as Chloé backed away pointedly, holding her bag out of reach. “Hands off, Kurtzberg.” She spat, dangling the bag from her arm as she awkwardly sidestepped Nathaniel and left the classroom. Nathaniel leant back slightly to catch a last glimpse of her, only to spot her sprinting down the corridor towards the exit.

 

He’d almost wished this had happened during class, see how she’d like being humiliated for once. That stupid girl could be so spiteful sometimes it wasn’t even funny. Her ‘being nice’ was so transparent as well he didn’t know how anyone could take it seriously, - when she acted nice it looked like she was doing a bad impression of being nice.

 

Of course, she was a terrible actor too, so no wonder it was so insincere.

 

He shook his head, closing the classroom door behind him and trudging down the corridor towards the front doors.


	2. Chapter 2

The moment Chloé arrived home, her jeans were off and tossed into the washing machine. She flopped down face-first onto her bed, sinking into the soft bedspread and feeling her muscles immediately relax in a way that felt amazing. She let out a sigh that was muffled by the soft fabric.

 

Next thing on the list would be to take some painkillers, maybe grab a small snack to accompany it and then jump in the shower- or perhaps a bath was in order. As if her pains weren’t enough to ruin her day, her awkward-gone-horrendous interaction with Nathaniel was irredeemably awful. She deserved this, she told herself, as she rummaged through her bedside drawer and pulled out a half-empty packet of painkillers, loose from their small cardboard box.

 

She was used to taking them without water and, as she did so, she began to absentmindedly sift through the contents of the drawer. She threw the leaflet that came with the painkillers straight into the small bin sat beside the bed, she picked out a string of paper-clips she didn’t remember constructing, eyeing them with confusion before tossing them boredly into the bin alongside the leaflet. She pulled out a collection of bracelets, slipping them on one by one, grimacing at each one as she remembered why she never wore them.

 

Looking around the room, she noted that it wasn’t  _ entirely _ spotless. There were a few unnecessary items, possibly considered garbage, lying around the room. Her makeup collection was spread out across her dresser after a long evening of experimenting with each product. The door to her wardrobe was slightly ajar and she didn’t even want to think of the state it was in. Yes, her room was definitely in need of a tidy-up.

 

Now, she was used to leaving chores like these in the hands of her attendants, after all that was what they were they for and she had much better things to do, but when it came to cleaning her room, she liked to do that by herself.

 

After all, her room was her domain and hers alone. Home to secrets she wouldn’t dare trust with anybody but herself and a few things she definitely wouldn’t like anybody being aware of, but above all that, in her room she had a feeling of total control.

 

Of course, being the daughter of the Mayor of Paris offered her all that and more. Manipulating her father with a whine and a quick bat of the eyelashes was easy enough, she had him wrapped right around her little finger, but it didn’t offer the same feeling of control she had here.

 

She liked to tidy up her own room because it was something she could do by herself. She wasn’t incapable or anything, she could do whatever she wanted if she  _ really _ wanted and there was absolutely  _ nobody _ around to do it for her, but doing such a small task made her feel a little less redundant and a little more useful to herself.

 

And even though she left most menial tasks to her attendants, she wouldn’t consider herself lazy as such. Sure, she left her homework to Sabrina, had never made herself a sandwich or a bowl of cereal let alone cook herself a meal and didn’t know how to change a lightbulb, but she was active in her own way.

 

She wouldn’t admit it, but she quite liked to draw. She loved to take photographs, especially of herself, and the expensive camera hanging from the end of her bed would be enough to explain that. Surely that counted for something.

 

And she would definitely never admit the fact she might’ve been a teensy tiny bit envious of Nathaniel’s talent in that regard. When she had snatched his sketchbook that day he became the Evillustrator, she had been more surprised than anything else. She had assumed they would be mere scribbles but seeing a fully inked cover of her beloved hero Ladybug was quite the shock.

 

The thought of Nathaniel brought her mood down massively. She’d clean her room tomorrow after school, she told herself, as she pushed herself up from the bed and stalked towards the shower.

 

 

* * *

Meanwhile, Nathaniel sat at the desk, next to his bed, staring hard down at the blank sheet of paper illuminated by his desk lamp. He was still feeling bitter about Chloé- he knew it was no point getting worked up over but the lack of a ‘thank you’ even after she’d left, spoke volumes as to how little she cared about anybody other than herself.

 

He didn’t even know what she had to be so vain about either- he’d noticed how she’d always fluff up her hair whenever she caught a glimpse of herself in the window or how she’d always check her makeup in the small compact mirror she kept in her jacket pocket. 

 

He mockingly began to sketch up a lazy caricature of the blonde girl, exaggerating her most prominent features in an effort to make the most ridiculous looking drawing possible. Wide forehead, thin nose, small, pursed lips. His strokes started off hard and jagged, as if to match the annoyance he felt, but they slowly began to become slower and more careful.

 

Come to think of it, caricature aside, she definitely did have an interesting face shape. 

 

One rough sketch turned into another, and another, and before he knew it, he had a whole page full of experimental sketches of Chloé, ranging from her looking contemplatively to the side, to her frowning in displeasure as she had done earlier that day. He had to admit, the way she plucked her eyebrows really did well to emphasise her facial expressions.

 

He spent a moment glaring down at the actually very well drawn sketches.

 

She was beautiful and she knew it.

 

He threw his pencil down in a huff, crossing his arms and tapping his heel against the carpeted floor. Maybe she’d be more beautiful to him if she was humble about it, but no, she knew damn well she was blessed with good looks, flaunting them at every opportunity she had.

 

Nathaniel was the polar opposite of that. He kept himself hidden behind his fringe, his head often hung to avoid meeting the gaze of other people. He hadn’t washed his hair in an alarmingly long time, let alone brushed it, and his eyelids drooped with exhaustion. He wasn’t jealous of her, by no means was she jealous of her. He didn’t have anything to celebrate about looks-wise and he was perfectly self-aware of that.

 

…

 

Maybe he wasn’t  _ totally _ satisfied with his self-image but it wasn’t like it was what his world revolved around the way Chloé’s was. He had more self-respect than that.

 

Even though he could hear his mother’s voice calling him downstairs for dinner, his eyes remained trained on the small sketches of Chloé.

 

 

* * *

The next day wasn’t any more pleasant than the one before. Chloé had woken up that day feeling somewhat alright, no noticeable pains to speak of, but made the mistake of not taking painkillers with her just in case.

 

Instead, she undertook her morning routine, as per usual, waltzed out of the door and was driven to school as she always was, arriving fifteen minutes early.

 

One thing that Chloé absolutely abhorred was being late. If there was one good thing about Chloé, it would be her appreciation for punctuality, even if, technically, she wasn’t the one driving herself.

 

She met Sabrina by the school’s entrance, as she always did. Sabrina stood, dancing from foot to foot with barely contained excitement, as she clutched Chloé’s homework in her arms.

 

“Hi, Chloé!” She waved, presenting Chloé’s homework eagerly, which Chloé took and slid into her bag. “Where were you yesterday? I looked all over for you after class but I couldn’t find you!” Sabrina asked, pressing her fingertips against her knuckles in a habitual manner.

 

Chloé sighed, waving a hand dismissively. “I had things to do.” She replied as the two headed towards the front doors, where she could see Marinette and Alya chattering to one another. Sabrina leant forward, as if to grab her attention as she spoke. “I-I did your maths and geography homework last night like you asked.” She pointed out and Chloé nodded, seemingly disinterested.

 

“Maths...geography, that’s it isn’t it?” She murmured, mostly to herself as she recited her timetable in her head. Sabrina quirked a brow, chewing her lip. “I, uh, I think we had art homework too.”

 

Chloé almost dropped her bag as she remembered, damn it all, they were given art homework last week. She’d been meaning to do it  for the past three days now too, and given that Sabrina wasn’t exactly the most artistic person out there, she didn’t like leaving her art homework up to her.

 

Besides which, it was the only homework she really enjoyed.

 

“What period do we have art again?” She couldn’t be bothered to pull out her crumpled timetable to check. Sabrina clasped her hands behind her back, looking slightly sheepish as she didn’t like to be the bearer of bad news, especially not to Chloé.

 

“First period. In five minutes.”

 

Chloé’s eyebrows made a slow, angry descent down her forehead as Sabrina backed away, hiking her bag further over her shoulder. “Guess...guess we should get going, huh!” She tittered, albeit awkwardly, sensing how the mood had dropped like a lead weight.

 

As they reluctantly made their way to the art classroom and took their seats, Chloé had the funny feeling that today wouldn’t be any better than yesterday, if anything, it would be worse. Despite Sabrina’s ramblings about her evening and whatever she’d watched on the television, Chloé’s mood remained at a consistent low as she frowned, watching Mme Lemaire draw a demonstration on the board.

 

She’d begrudgingly done her work, not really enjoying the lesson as she usually did, instead cursing herself for such a stupid lapse of memory. It was only at the end of the lesson did the teacher request the homework to be laid out on their desks. Everybody, except Chloé complied, and when Mme Lemaire passed by, inspecting each work, she noted the absence of homework on Chloé’s desk.

 

Chloé could practically feel the teacher’s disapproving expression without looking up and as Mme Lemaire spoke, she would’ve felt slightly sheepish if she wasn’t so utterly pissed off.

 

“Ms. Bourgeois, I hope you had some intention to do your homework.” Mme Lemaire remarked, clicking her tongue, as a few students turned their heads to watch the exchange. Chloé silently wished for them to mind their own damn business for once as she responded, “Yes, Madame Lemaire.”

 

Mme Lemaire exhaled, collecting Sabrina’s talentless yet well-meaning homework, “Good, because you’ll be completing it after school tonight.” 

 

Chloé bit her lip, suppressing the longest and most-needed groan imaginable as a few students began to snicker. They weren’t even a quarter of the day in and it was already unbearable, but her mood heightened considerably as the door swung open with more force than necessary and for the second time that week, she was happy to see Nathaniel.

 

He was red-faced, enough to match his hair, as he clutched his sketchbook- his bag hung awkwardly off his shoulder as he panted lightly, clearly having done no less than run the entire way to school.

 

He immediately regretted the decision to enter the classroom almost an hour late as Mme Lemaire stared him down with an expression that could only be described as ‘blank distaste’.

 

“Do I even need to start?” She questioned, stalking back towards the desk. “You clearly won’t be understanding the concept of time anytime in the near future. Let me make it clearer for you Mr Kurtzberg- the other students will be going home when the big hand reaches the four. You, on the other hand, will be going home when the big hand reaches the five. Do I make myself clear?”

 

Chloé covered her mouth with her hand, watching with glee at the formal bollocking Nathaniel was receiving for being so late and was happy to see the others doing the same, meaning the spotlight of shame was now away from her and onto him.

 

Nathaniel swallowed, his face twisted unpleasantly. “Yeah…”

 

“Good. I wouldn’t bother sitting down, the bell will ring in two minutes.”

 

* * *

Come the end of the day, Chloé sat sullenly at her desk in the art classroom, inspecting her immaculate fingernails as Mme Lemaire set down a fresh sheet of paper in front of her. “Right, now I trust you remember what the homework actually was…?” She folded her arms, pursing her lips as Chloé bit back her anger, “Yes, Madame.”

 

“Good, good-- Ah, Mr Kurtzberg, you’re here. You can sit down at your desk and do whatever homework you have that needs doing.” Mme Lemaire trotted back to the front of the classroom as Nathaniel begrudgingly took a seat at his desk.

 

“Now, I have to attend a faculty meeting for the next hour, but I’ll be back before five o’clock, so I’m expecting to see you both here when I come back.” Mme Lemaire explained, grabbing her purse from under the teacher’s desk and heading for the door.

 

“Chloé, if you don’t complete your homework by five o’clock you’ll be staying tomorrow evening as well.”

 

With that, Mme Lemaire shut the door behind her, allowing Chloé’s face to almost immediately drop into an expression of disgust as she mimicked the teacher’s words under her breath, before grabbing her pencil case from her bag.

 

Right, now, the homework was...what was it again? Oh, yeah, they were practicing anatomy and the human body. It didn’t have to be perfect, but so long as she grasped the concept of anatomy, which she already had because she wasn’t stupid or blind, this would be a breeze.

 

She was about to reach into her pocket for her compact mirror- drawing herself was a cinch, she’d done it enough times already, but her gaze stopped on Nathaniel, sat at the desk in front of her.

 

His hair looked disgusting. 

 

He clearly never brushed it, she could see the matts and the knots in it from where she was sat. It was honestly frustrating to her and she swore, one of these days, she'd get Sabrina to tie him down so she could take a brush to that tangled clump of red that he liked to call hair. 

 

She hadn’t realised at the time, but she’d become so invested in wondering just what he’d look like if his hair wasn’t so grotty and she could actually see his face for once, that she began to sketch him lazily onto the piece of paper. It wasn’t anything fancy- long smooth strokes for his flame red hair, his shoulders that were a little too short to be considered broad, but the blazer he wore did well to accent his sharp angles and corners.

 

He was actually quite nice to draw. She took out a striking red pencil and began to highlight the parts of his hair where the light reflected against it. It was a bit more interesting than just drawing blonde with bits of brown and white. Nathaniel’s hair seemed to flow out into a multitude of different shades against the light. 

 

Drawing the creases in clothes wasn’t something she found enjoyable, which was why drawing her tight-fitting clothing was a big relief for her, but Nathaniel’s jacket didn’t offer many difficult curves and folds. She absentmindedly wondered just when he’d go out and buy a new one, he’d been wearing that exact same one for years now. Surely that was enough, even for him.

 

But, she guessed that was what made him Nathaniel, the same way his stark red hair made him Nathaniel. The same way Marinette’s neatly trimmed bunches would make her Marinette, or the way Ivan’s blonde streak would make him Ivan.

 

She hadn’t realised it before but over the course of several years, nothing much had really changed. 

 

He hadn’t changed much either. She lazily began to pencil in what she could see of his hand, hard at work sketching lines onto a page that she couldn’t quite make out. He was probably sketching one of his comic books again. 

 

Come to think of it, those weren’t half bad. Comics definitely weren’t her thing- how someone could spend so much time over something nerdy and make a book about it but the fact it was all Nathaniel’s work, from the inking to the stapling of the pages was what made it a little more worthwhile- not to mention he’d made a decent amount of money from it too.

 

Maybe she could do something like that. Make something totally astounding that would shock her classmates so they’d realise that she was actually super talented and amazing as she was.

 

And maybe...maybe she could prove to Nathaniel that she could be just as good as him. Better than him. He always seemed to be such an asshole, maybe this was a good time to take him down a peg or two.

 

The remainder of the detention period was spent neatening up her sketch of Nathaniel, though she hadn’t fully realised that this was her homework she was meant to be doing and that she’d accidentally chosen the red-headed boy as the focus for her picture too.

 

It was only when a shadow was cast over her desk, did she look up to see Mme Lemaire’s odd yet approving expression, as she took the paper from the desk and tucked it away in her bag. “That’ll be alright.” She assured, shooting one final glance at Nathaniel, as she headed back towards the door. Did this mean the detention was over?

 

Chloé was quick to pack away her things, but she hesitated walking past Nathaniel’s desk, watching silently as he hastily straightened out his stack of sketches. He tilted his head slightly, eyeing her.

 

“Can I help you?”

 

Chloé scoffed, “Nope.” She said, popping her lips for extra emphasis, but her eyes didn’t stray from the pile of sketches. He’d sure gotten better since last year…

 

Nathaniel said nothing, but decided to make a quick getaway. Unfortunately, his accidental carelessness resulted in several of his sketches escaping his bag. Chloé watched the pages float gently to the floor with a blank expression as Nathaniel hurried to pick them up.

 

It took longer than she expected to realise the page she was looking at were drawings of her.

 

“Hey...hey, that’s me!” She pointed a perfectly manicured finger at one of the pieces, to which Nathaniel scrambled to snatch it up, however Chloé’s reaction time and love for herself bested his attempt to reclaim the embarrassing drawing. She inspected it, mouth slightly open as she tilted the paper back and forth to get better angles. Good to see he was drawing something worthwhile for once.

 

“Give it back.” He outstretched his hand, eyebrows furrowed as he demanded his drawing back. Chloé looked him up and down before pulling the paper out of reach. “No way, you totally drew me! I deserve to look at this.”

 

Nathaniel bit back a slew of responses that would counter such a setup, instead he stood with folded arms as he glared at Chloé. “Don’t get the wrong idea. I draw everyone in this class, you were bound to come up sooner or later.”

 

Chloé hummed boredly as she continued to observe the smaller details for longer than Nathaniel would’ve expected her to. “Yeah, yeah, like you spent a year and a half drawing nothing but pictures of Marinette. Bet that’s what you say to everyone.”

 

Nathaniel inhaled through his teeth. “Give it back. Look, it’s not yours. If you want some kind of stupid self portrait of yourself, go ask someone who’ll do it. Don’t steal my drawings.”

 

He waited for a typical snide remark, growing impatient the longer he waited until he realised that silence was actually pretty uncommon for Chloé. Well...she wasn’t dismissing his drawings as worthless or untalented. She actually looked pretty interested but, knowing her, it was probably because she was the focus of the page.

 

Contrary to what Nathaniel was thinking, however, Chloé wasn’t obsessing over the page because of her own self-centered personality. In fact, she was deep in thought, trying to memorise the style of the drawings herself.

 

She could feel a plan forming, and it wasn’t one of those half-baked stupid attempts to best Marinette that always ended with Sabrina getting involved. No way, this was gonna be all her.

 

Chloé pocketed the drawing suddenly, almost scrunching it up in the process as Nathaniel’s jaw dropped in protest. “Sorry, Kurtzberg.” Chloé sniffed, unapologetically, “But I need this for a while.”

 

Nathaniel was stone silent as Chloé sauntered towards the door. “What could you possibly want with that? I’m not exactly a fan of yours, so don’t go thinking it’s meant to be flattering.” He grumbled, though his voice was lower and meeker than his words.

 

Stopping by the door, Chloé waved her hand dismissively. “Oh, don’t worry, I don’t really care what you think of me. I just need this for something...personal.” She clicked her tongue in a playful manner, skipping out the door, leaving Nathaniel not knowing quite what to do.

 

Needless to say, he hadn’t realised he’d accidentally provided Chloé with an overwhelming source of inspiration.

**Author's Note:**

> some quality mutual understanding going on between us period-havers here
> 
> hands up if you've ever been personally victimised by chloe bourgeious or your own body


End file.
